Pain
by RainingFlowers
Summary: Ginny Potter reflects on her life, thinking about love and pain. Short oneshot drabble.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley or any of the other characters mentioned in this story. They all belong of J.K.Rowling, who is the best author ever. 

A/N: This is a very short one-shot that I wrote from one of my most random and shortest plot-bunnies. It's not very long at all, roughly only 1000 words, and nothing much really happens. This was just to take my mind off my main fanfic that's taking up most of my fanfiction writing time. Anyway, enough of my rambling.

Enjoy!

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Pain

Pain is something everyone must have experienced, many times in their lives. True pain, however, was something that most people could sail through life without. Ginny Potter could not put her hand on her heart and honestly say that she was one of those people; she had suffered so much in her life and yet her suffering paled in comparison to her husband's.

There is physical pain and emotional pain. Maybe physical pain was worse, maybe emotional. Emotional pain lasted longer, drew out the suffering. Yet Ginny was not oblivious to the effects of physical pain. She had experienced enough physical pain in the Last War to know that it could cause lasting damage, and perhaps lasting pain. Their family friend, Remus Lupin, a werewolf, victim of the war, underwent such pain each month due to his condition. And her own brother Bill cried out in pain each night of the full moon while the scars on his face burned once again.

Physical pain, severe pain, would drive away all other thoughts. The Cruciatus Curse was the best example of such pain. All the mind would be able to focus on would be the excruciating fire within their bodies, and would be silently begging the curser to lift it. Yet, when she had watched her twin brothers being tortured with that curse when they had been captured on a raid, it invoked such a deep pain within her soul that rivalled the torment of the curse. She had wanted nothing more that to shake off the full body bind and throw herself in front of Fred and George, taking away their agony for a moment. And the longer she had stood there, watching her normally cheery brothers writhing and screaming on the ground, the more she was hurting inside. Yes, emotional pain hurt.

The knowledge of that simple fact was what won the war for them; Voldemort's mistaken impression that nothing was worse than horrible, physical pain became his downfall. Emotional pain was a sign of love, the thing that Voldemort was blissfully unaware of. Voldemort felt no love but for himself, and for everyone else was anger, condescendence or contempt. Therefore, when a daring and reckless Harry Potter destroyed parts ofVoldemort's own soul before his eyes, he felt such physical and emotional pain that he hardly noticed the Final Battle commencing around him. Harry killed Voldemort with love and emotion that night; those things being so alien to the person once called Tom Riddle that his body and soul could not take it. 'The power that he knows not' destroyed him, but Harry suffered so much pain in return. His body was burnt and scarred almost beyond recognition and he had lost so many friends and family that night. Although the light side did not suffer too much loss, each number on the paper was one too much for Harry. That may have been the worst time oftheir lives, and not just Harry's. His mutilated body, his anguish for all who perished and his near trip to depression hurtGinny and all his new-found family so much too. When he finally recovered, everyone who survived from the fight with Voldemort began their own fight; their own fight with the pain in their own bodies and soul.

During this time everyone suffered. The awards that were given out and the public memorials they attended only added to their pain; they had survived, but so many hadn't. The worst period was when she and her family had attended the funeral of her father, Arthur Weasley. He had fallen in the Final Battle, killed by the fateful Avada Kedavra curse that struck so many. Her pain and anguish had overcome her then, and she sobbed onto Harry's shoulder for so long. She couldn't bear it; the soul wrenching pain tore into her heart and emptied it through her eyes. She hurt so much, and she would always remember her father who had died valiantly in battle.

But along with the pain in that funeral came a little bit of joy. Percy came back to say his last goodbye to his father, and apologised to his whole family for his misguided judgements. Molly cried even more, but tears of joy came through when she hugged Percy and couldn't find the words to say. She had lost her husband, but was just happy and grateful that she had reclaimed a son. Some joy came with the pain.

And that could go two ways, as well. What was supposed to be the happiest day ofGinny's life, her marriage to Harry, came with the sharp, stabbing pain in her chest that it couldn't have been her father walking her down the aisle. She missed him so much; she could have imagined his proud smile as he gave her away, and she longed for the bliss and happiness that her wedding day should have been. She longed for her father's coarse, tired, hardworking hands enveloping hers as he held it while she walking to the alter. Yet those hands were just Charlie's, her second oldest brother who had been the closest to her when she was young. Pain came up everywhere in her life, but she had learned to accept her life as hers and she wouldn't have it any other way. She had the best family and a fantastic husband.

And, right now, she was in pain once again. She could vaguely see Harry's scar-ridden face close to hers, and hear his voice comforting her, but the pain was excruciating. She screamed again, and held Harry's hand in her own. Ginny heard the encouragement, and bit her lip. She was exhausted, and took advantage of the brief pause to take some more breaths. Harry stroked her forehead, straightening out her hair that had become tangled and sweaty in her thrashes and screams. She cried out again as the pain began, once again.

Forty minutes later, Ginny slumped against the pillows in St. Mungo's, exhausted but delighted. She held a small bundle in her arms, and saw Harry grinning at her stupidly from across the bed. Giving him a weak smile, she looked at the bundle to see a small tuft of red hair. Stroking it away, she caused the baby's eyes to open and she gasped. Deep, enchanting pools of green started out at her, going deep within her soul, filling her pain-filled heart with joy and love.

This time, the pain was one of the best things in the world.

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Well, what did you think? Love it, hate it, wish it had never been written? I personally think it's a bit soppy and depressing, but wasn't too bad as a story. But that's just my biased, misguided opinion. So please, leave a review, whether you praise this story to the heavens or flame me. 


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